Halloween Collection: Drabbles and One-shots
by Dusked
Summary: Collection of drabbles and one-shots, with various ratings/pairings. Written for Clever Ink Slinger's Holiday Spirit: HALLOWEEN Boot Camp Challenge, 2012.
1. Afraid

**word count: **595**  
disclaimer: **I do not own anything in harry potter.  
**notes: **this collection of one-shots/drabbles have been written for **Clever Ink Slinger 's _Holiday Spirit: HALLOWEEN Boot Camp challenge._**i hope you enjoy.  
also, a very big thank you to my beta. **mrs. milfoy**

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_**i. Afraid**_

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Outside, night is alive, the treacherous rain pelts the windows like bullets, and the harsh, grating winds scream along the castle, unnervingly sounding much like the shrill cry of a human being savagely tortured.

Lily Potter wraps herself tighter in the wool blanket, pressing her head harder into the pillow to block out the thunderous storm. Most people would laugh at the thought of a fifth year petrified of a little shower.

She cannot help that it is natural instinct for her to be afraid.

It is even worse as tonight is Halloween. Which means more tricks than treats if you are familiar with one Fred Weasley II.

A yelp springs from her mouth when another clap of thunder echoes through the room just as her common room door is thrown open, and connects to the brick wall with a deafening slam.

The bleach blonde boy enters with a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Scared of a little thunder, Potter?"

She sputters defiantly. "What—No, of course not."

"How will you explain the wet patch on the front of your skirt, then?"

Her eyes dart to her uniform, and she twists her body in several different angles to confirm what he implied is supposedly true. His snickering halts her flustered examination. She turns back to fire a glare at him. "Oh, ha-bloody-ha, Malfoy."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he saunters over and settles in the seat alongside her. "It is 'ha-ha' material, as you were gullible enough to believe me."

Her retort is drowned out by a rumble and flash of lightning. She slaps her hands to her ears, attempting to block out the ominous sound.

"For Merlin sake," she hears Malfoy mutter before her hands are tugged away from her head. "Dealing with it that way isn't going to help you."

Had his warm, soft hands not been wrapped around her wrists, her counter may have been stronger, but instead came out as a weak tremor, "And what do you suppose would help?"

"Easy," he scoffs. "Don't cover your ears, or close your eyes. Just…sit through it."

"That isn't going to do anything!"

"Really? Let's test out my theory, shall we?"

Before she can protest, her fear is triggered again. Thunder rattles the windows, and a shriek of wind wails along the walls. On impulse, she scrunches her eyes shut, and bows her head, the rose curtains of her hair hiding her face.

"Open your eyes."

The combination of the unusual gentleness to his command and the light, yet distinguishable stroke of his thumb against the inside of her wrist causes her to unlock her eyelids. Breath hitches in her throat as she fastens onto his steady gaze; the dark shade of melted silver penetrates her, forcing her to watch him, to focus. "Just…listen. It won't hurt us."

She does not notice the next strike of thunder ringing throughout the room. She can only centre on his eyes in bewitched fascination, oddly nerved but calmed by his scrutiny.

She is shaken by her trance when he speaks, "Better?"

"Y—yes," she manages to whisper. She clears her throat awkwardly. "Thank you."

Much to her dismay, he releases her wrists and hauls himself from the sofa, but gives her a quirk of his lips. "Keep doing that, and you'll overcome it, I'm sure." He's leaving now, and Lily muses why he'd come in the first place. He stops just before the door closes behind him. "But if you ever come across a struggle, I'm only a staircase away."

She wonders if he refers to more than the weather as the door clicks shut.


	2. Autumn

**disclaimer: **nothing belongs to me, as usual.  
**notes: **thank you again, **mrs. milfoy **for betaing.

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_**ii. Autumn**_

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It happens to fall on a Wednesday this time.

Halloween, yes; but that is the last thing on Harry's mind. Instead, he thinks of the precious memories he shared with his parents—few that there are—he still clutches to the vivid images he manages to remember.

He feels numb—the only thing his body allows him to feel. Not the kind of tingling pins and needles from sitting on your arm for a long period of time; but when you've been sitting out in freezing cold weather, frosty air biting into your skin until you cannot feel it anymore.

Fun is what he should be having, like all other students; attend the feast and stay up until early dawn with his friends, and yet he cannot bring himself to do so because he knows he'd feel guilty for expressing the slightest bit of positive nature.

He is huddled over on a bench in the courtyard, and crushes the frost–laced grass with his shoes, its colour crisping over with a rich gold from the beginning of its new year cycle.

Sighing faintly, he rubs at his eyes with wasted actions and drags himself to his feet because it's likely his absence is being questioned.

As he leaves, a sudden breeze rustles the autumn leaves.


End file.
